God of the Shooting Star

November 26, 2016

I caught your wink
A nod of the head
A divine constellation

One Shooting Star is all I need
And all you gave

Whirling still
In my brain
You nod acceptance..and hope

I get the go ahead.

It wasn’t fear or acquiescence that brought our forbears here
But an idealistic and fierce desire to right the wrongs so near

It wasn’t fear or selfishness that moved first Americans to care
But love, compassion, knowledge, and heart, the corn and harvest shared

It wasn’t fear and divisiveness that caused the table to be one
But cooperative neighbors who were willing to risk their differences that all may come

It won’t be fear that heals our wounds
And creates one nation again
But courageous Americans who remember the truth
That all of us are kin.

Robust
rotund like a curved atrium
Semicircles accent bulbous breasts
A butt that won’t quit

A belly like a female Buddha
A pregnant woman
A beach ball

You love me now
Love the way my hips swing

But will you love me when I’m thin?

I Moonbathe

November 16, 2016

Like Bathsheba
I bathe
Only in moonbeams
Which eclipse Orion

The man watches
His face a crater

Alleluia escapes my lips
I praise the Maker of the Universe

The Gold Mine in my Backyard

November 15, 2016

The hickory turned overnight
Like me in a November haze
Dreams lift
The smoke from the mountains pervade

Once, I saw a wagon train
Straight from Dahlonega
Delivering yellow gold to the state capital

Once, I took my children
To pan for the gold
Flakes the color of ripe corn
Filled our pans
We were rich

Now, as I rock on my porch
Blinded by the Light of the hickory
I remember the seasons
The eons
The wealth of memory

“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

You remind me there’s a crack
As the train blows so loudly I cannot think
I rumble with it on my own track
Bluejays fuss, they can’t help it.

A young man practices skateboard feats in the vacant lot
Respite visitors, dual diagnoses, sit and smoke
I try and be positive
There is a crack in everything

The bed is cozy, perfect with sheets in uncanny thread counts
The kitchen is warm, plants in the windowsill, broken art
The ice cream truck plays cheerful music
We talk and share stories

I long to knit and spin. Care for my daddy
Sell rare books–first editions–as I promised my mother
I chart. I work. I am thankful for meaning

But I am tired. Exhausted as I sleep and dream.

Voting in America

November 5, 2016

Voting in America
Is an act of free will
The dignity of choice
epistemology

We are not robots
Tied to computers
But beautiful creatures
of human grace

We will go into our booths
A shroud of privacy
Emerge triumphant
Our sticker in hand

We are a theology
Of creation
Of original sin
And salvation

We are wonders in a wonderful system

Once, you gave me a vase,
Delicate pottery
A thin luscious glaze

It was perfect
I hold it to this day

Then came the angel ornament
Blond haired and winged
Sitting on a cloud
She looked like me

Finally, there was the scarf
Wrapped in tissue paper
Formal
Navy and white polka dot

I promptly threw it away

You could have given me anything else and I would have been happy
A trinket
A letter
A Psalm

But your gift marked the end
I knew it from the box